The First Warrior
by Mihloa
Summary: The origins of the four classes, and the story that began it all.
1. Chapter 1

In the countryside somewhere between Lith Harbour and Henseys, a weather worn traveler followed the dusty road toward an old farmhouse standing tall away in a field of swaying long grass. The sun beat fiercely hot upon him and baked the world of almost unearthly green around him until the fragrance of dust, grass, flowers and all manner of plants were heated into almost overwhelming pungency. In the distance, the wheat and vegetable fields, and the old forests bordering the area were blurred in the powerful noon light.

Sighing with weariness, the traveler stopped walking and considered the distance that was left to the farmhouse. As he made the decision to rest, with another sigh of relieved contentment, he took a step off the path and plopped down in the grass, throwing off the bulky haversack that had been on his back all day. Insects droned in his hears and he tried and missed to catch a grass hopper that leaped across his lap. Pulling off the loose hood he wore, the boy ruffled his sandy-brown mop of hair and lay back in the grass, feeling the cooler soil.

It was quite a few moments before the boy heard a swishing in the grass behind him. He sat up quickly and looked around. A strange man in old, tattered traveling robes, carrying a staff, was approaching him. He was an old man, though this was difficult to determine because the old face, still quite clear, was overpowered by the grey eyes that almost radiated with intensity. The boy was curious; wondering what he wanted.

"Hello!" the old man greeted him cheerfully.

"Hello, sir," the boy replied appropriately.

" You look very hot and tired," the man nodded with a shrewd expression, even though it wasn't hard to see that the boy was tired. "What brings you here on a hot day like today?"

"I left home to come and work at the farm here," the boy said and chatted on openly, still sitting in the grass. " I used to live on Maple Island. I don't really know much about the people here, though. But the master here was friends with my father a long time ago."

"I see, I see," the old man replied. "And why did you need to come and work so far from home, if I may ask?"

"Oh," the boy began to study a grasshopper beside him as he spoke, "I have a big family and they need the money. My pa's getting to old to work. I'm grown now, so I decided to come here and help out. Its my responsibility."

"That's very noble of you," the man nodded.

"And I always wanted to come to Victoria Island. It always sounded like a big, exciting place. Someday I might get to explore it. I want to just be a wanderer, someday."

"What's your name, boy?"

"I'm Terrin, sir."

The old man pulled something from a pocket in his robe. "You look very dry. Drink this," he said, handing the boy a glass vial filled with a blue liquid. Terrin took it and inspected it with wide- eyed fascination. What a strange thing it looked to drink.

"It's alright, boy, it will cool you from the inside out."

Not wanting to seem rude, the boy slowly opened the vial and lifted it to his lips. It was thick and rich, like milk, but sweet; cool, but not cold, and he felt the coolness spreading through his body as the liquid ran down his throat and into his stomach. As he lowered the vial, Terrin was no longer in any discomfort from the smothering heat and humidity. He was strangely, fully, refreshed. He handed it the empty vial to the man in wonder.

The man nodded, looking pleased in an unsmiling way. "Your destiny, however, lies in strength and not magic." And with that, he turned and walked off through the grass.

Terrin did not know what his words ment, but he called out, "thank you," as he watched the old man leave.

"What are doing here," a rough voice demanded.

Terrin turned around. A young man, a few years older than him though quite taller, stood glaring at him questioningly. This man had a swarthy complexion and already his demeanour reminded him of an angry wolf.

Quickly rising, Terrin explained, "I'm headed to the farm here. I've come from Maple Island to work here, my name is-"

"Yeah, I know who you are," the young man snapped impatiently. "Come on."

Terrin hurried along to match his guides uncompromisingly rushed gait.

"Call me Dag," the young man murmured dutifully. He added, "You look like you're a kid or something."

Having heard this accusation in many conversations and caused by his innocent eyes and expression, and gentle, curious spirit, Terrin was prepared to apologise, "I'm 17. I'll work hard, don't worry."

"You'd better," Dag replied.


	2. Chapter 2

A blinding blue light split reality itself. Out of it leaped the ragged creature, folds of bare mottled purple skin falling visible through the billowing brown fur. Its huge paws shook the earth as it landed, and it roared, a sound unlike anything of man or beast.

As it roared, tiny objects appeared floating in the air like dust motes. And as they rolled through the air they grew, stretching, widening, some unfurling their growing limbs: turning into the first monsters.

Some fell to the earth as pig- like creatures, or snails, or leaping balls of slime. Others grew more and continued riding the breeze to faraway places.

The roaring creature shut its muzzle. Its fur sunk into its flesh, and as it shrunk and changed, it left a human in its place.

Not far away, the boy Terrin was working in the field, fervently cutting grain with a sickle to throw in the wagon. It was the day after he'd arrived at the farm, and it was just as hot as the day before, but Terrin was not slacking. He liked the feeling of accomplishment, and had also developed a liking for the farmer and his wife, who were good, friendly people, and had asked him about his parents and treated him like company for a few hours. Terrin thought the money they were paying him was very generous and wanted to work hard for it.

There were several other young men working with him. The group turned the stalks of grain into yellow piles. The master had set a certain point, about a quarter of the field, that he wanted cut.

Dag wiped sweat from his brow, walked over to the wagon and sat on the edge. "We're gonna take a break," he announced.

The other boys followed, except Terrin, who hesitated. "But we just started," he argued.

"Just get over here," of the boys snapped.

"Yeah, its alright, kid," Dag said, who always seemed to be passive and moody, like he didn't want to spend the effort on talking. "So come'ere, 'cause if the farmer sees you working and us sitting here he'll think we're slackers."

Terrin joined the others and sat in the grass in the shade of the wagon. After twenty minutes he thought their break was getting to be a little ridiculous. "Do you always just sit around?" he asked with genuine incredulousness.

"What's it matter to you," someone said; a big guy a little older than him.

"I'm getting back to work." Terrin rose, picked up his sickle and resumed cutting the grain.

A few seconds later, the farmer rode over on horseback. Seeing just the one boy at work, he let loose on the other men.

"What do I pay you for?" he roared furiously. "I'm lowering your pay by 40 mesos, all of you! Now get back to work!" Watching for a few moments, he made sure they did his bidding, and then trotted off.

Taking his anger out on the grain, Dag chopped furiously. He glanced over at Terrin beside him, who didn't seem at all bothered, and was intent on his job.

Terrin caught Dags eye and decided to apologise. "I'm really sorry, guys," he looked back at the grain as he continued, "but you really should have just kept working."

Dag lowered his sickle and stood still. "This is all your fault. 40 mesos! Why didn't you listen to me?" He turned his sickle around and swung the blunt end at Terrin, meaning to just give him a painful little knock on the shoulder, but it clashed against metal. Terrin had used his sickle to block the attack with a move so fast that Dag had barely seen it happen.

Dag stepped back, speechless. Amazed, he looked the boy over for a moment before trying again, this time swinging his sickle high and hard.

_Clang!_ He tried again, this time lower. _Clang!_

Terrin eyed Dag, completely surprised. Not wanting any more trouble, he turned and walked away. Dag, more curious than angry now, rushed forward and lunged. He was met by a blocking sickle with a force so strong that he was knocked to the ground.

The other workers cried out angrily. They raced forward from all directions. Terrin didn't want to fight, he let them grab the sickle from him. The brawny worker held his arms and the others beat him with the flats and blunt ends of their sickles- over the head, in the chest, sometimes scraping him slightly with the blades. Terrin, gasping, endured it for several minutes. Finally Dag rushed into their midst, pushing some of them and pulling the boy away who held Terrins arms.

"That's enough," he snapped. "You're gonna kill him."

He turned to Terrin. "Just get out of here. I don't know what you're going to do, but you can't work with us now, for your own sake." He signalled the others to follow him, and they walked away to the other side of the field.

Terrin watched them leave. Dejectedly, he fiddled with his sickle, scratching the dirt with it. He had aching bruises all over his body, he was embarrassed, and he figured he would have to rejoin the others despite it all. What else could he do, an ocean away from home, in a place he knew nothing about.

But he wasn't ready to face those people. Still holding his sickle absentmindedly, he strolled through the grassy field toward the forest. It was a very beautiful day, with birdsong and crickets chirruping. The forest also looked enticing, it stood in the distance, with old gnarled trees and thick canopy, a place for adventure.

Terrin enjoyed his loneliness as he walked toward it. He thought about his home and his family, and then his thoughts brought him back to the workers. It frustrated him that they had reacted like that. He didn't understand what the big deal was.

Suddenly he became alert. Near the edge of the forest, there was a huge green bubble bouncing around. Hesitantly, he walked closer. With a shock he realized it was a living thing- but not an animal: a monster. As he stared in awe, it leapt on something- then he noticed there was a person standing near it that he hadn't seen before. The monster opened its mouth and dug its spiky teeth deep into the person's arm.

"Aaah!" Terrin exclaimed in horror. He wielded his sickle and ran forward. It was quite far away. But he reached it in a minute and swung the sickle. It sliced through the monster- a living bubble of slime. The bubble fell to ground, dead, leaving its victims arm extremely bloody.

--

_Well, please review. Just tell me what you think, but even If you don't, I'm gonna keep writing this story anyway. I write it when I can't sleep, at 3:00 the morning. And that is going to be often, because I am an insomniac, incapable of sleeping. Its good for the imagination, being up this late early, but its not really good for anything else. That's why the writing is so bad. _

_Anyways, this part kinda reminded me of school. I'm not gonna explain that, btw._


	3. Chapter 3

Fitting an arrow to bow, the huntress inhaled slowly as she aimed with one keen eye at a pig snuffling around under the trees. With a twang, the arrow flew true. The pig squealed wildly and fell.

The huntress materialized from the shade where she had stood in the shade of a leafy tree. The forest was dark from the thickness of its towering canopy, and the loamy floor was covered every inch in all manner of undergrowth, but the huntress had no difficulty in stepping with graceful quickness over to the kill.

As the archer stooped down to inspect the kill, she saw that it wasn't a normal pig. There were little differences, but the mostly it was far sturdier and had a more solid build than the average pig; quite a strong animal. Also, she noticed, alarmed, that it had a ribbon tied around its neck. Because of the angle it had been standing, she hadn't seen it before. This pig was not wild. She had killed someone's pig.

There was nothing to do now but keep it. The girl proceeded to tie a rope around its neck. It was a strange sight. The bow that she had lay on the ground momentarily was a simple but beautiful weapon, wooden and long, with a few intricate little carvings in the wood; and as strong and effective as a bow could be. The girl was completely attired in heavy, thick hunter gear; arrayed in a rugged forest green, pocketed jacket, arm length gloves, overskirt and high, folded boots, all fit for summer or winter. The belt slung over her shoulder held the quiver of arrows. Underneath the warm, rimmed green hat was long, wavy blond hair that fell over a delicate face that would have looked out of place if not overshadowed by solemnity and strengthened by a toughness in her expression.

She picked up the pig by the rope and began to walk through the forest, but she stopped when the bushes nearby began to rustle wildly. Whatever was making the commotion was coming nearer and nearer. Suddenly another pig flew from the bushes and charged into her. The girl stumbled and caught herself. Used to dealing with wild animals, she unfastened a small staff she carried in her waist belt and swung it at the pig, trying to fend it off so that she could walk away. One dead pig was enough.

The pig squealed and charged again, ignoring the stick. There was a grunting behind her and another pig flew out of the bushes. As the huntress struck them, another pig appeared from somewhere else.

Again, the bushes behind her rustled. Thinking it was another pig, the girl was about to give up and run away, but suddenly there was a sword blocking her path. Swinging around, she was confronted by a man dressed in black. The red symbol of a jagged dagger on the front of his garb was all too familiar. Quickly sidestepping away, she turned and ran, leaving him behind. Looking back, she the man was slowly stumbling away as he fought through the pigs.

That was encouraging. The girl kept running, skilfully cutting through the undergrowth. As she neared the edge of the forest, she heard running footsteps pounding the ground behind her. There was another man following her, dressed the same as the other. She gracefully changed her path in a few quick bounds, disappearing into the trees. To the man behind her it looked like she had vanished. Reaching the end of the forest, she passed through the trees into the countryside of Henseys. Another black garbed man was waiting on the road. He rushed forward, but the huntress danced away just in time and passed him easily, laughing inwardly as he cried out in rage.

Continuing along the road, past the farms and fields, the girl knew that now all three were following her; they were making a racket behind her. She also knew that if she could make it to Henseys, she would be able to hide away in the crowds that were ever present in the marketplace.

Passing the last country house, the huntress entered the town of Henseys. Puzzled onlookers stared as she ran past the houses, over the cobblestone street toward the busy hum of the marketplace. Once there, she calmly walked through the suffocating, massive crowd of people, feeling very pleased with herself, as if she had just won a game. Finding a meat- selling stand, the huntress hoisted the pig up and plunked it down in front of the merchant.

"Two hundred mesos, please," she said.

-- _--_

_Thanks for the reviews. Thanks for taking the time to read it. Yeah, writing at 3:00, you get messed up a bit._

_This was a bit cheezy I guess. Also I just want to tell ye', the reason why its not very maplestoryey yet (it doesn't say viper bow or anything like that) is cause its before maplestory; but It'll get better._


	4. Chapter 4

Terrin stared up at the person he had rescued from the slime and recognized the old man he had met yesterday.

"Thank you lad," the old man smiled. "Those slimes are indeed a nuisance."

"What?" Terrin stammered, recovering from the shock. "What was that thing?"

"It was a monster; one of many. You'll see a lot more from now."

"But that's…terrible!"

"Yes, it is," the old man nodded. "This force of evil had finally entered the world. Everything will change, the world will deteriorate into nothing but a wasteland. Unless someone acts now." His eyes pierced Terrin's soul as he looked at him and said," so what are you going to do about it?"

Terrin stared, speechless. This statement was too sudden to comprehend. "Wh- what should I do about it?"

"Good." The man smiled again. "I knew you would be willing; that's half the battle already won."

He reached into the folds of his robes and removed an object. It was a long, crude sword with a wooden belt and chipped steel blade. But all Terrin saw as the sword was handed to him blade first, was beautiful, wonderful, heavenly weapon. Reaching out and taking it tenderly, he swung it into the air as he gaped at it.

"A sword!" he said.

"Yes, not the finest of weapons," the old man said. "Or maybe it is, depending on how it is wielded. Your hand compels it. Just like the most powerful warrior is nothing without strength of spirit to compel him. This is why you were chosen."

"This sword is excellent, sir! I've always, always wanted a sword. More than anything else in the world." He brought it down and turned it slowly in his hands to look at it more closely. Then he looked up. "But can you tell me what exactly is going on here, sir?"'

With a distant look in his eyes, the man explained, "when the world was young, a great evil came out of the dark realms of existence and nearly conquered. But a man, just a man and nothing more, rose up and defeated it. This man was the First Warrior. He went into the very dimension of evil and imprisoned the monster of that darkness there. But the magic that held it was not eternal. The creature was bound one day to escape."

Terrin realized that this story sounded like a simple legend. But he had seen the slime; what else could he believe?

"You'll learn more about it, boy," the man said, seeing Terrins confusion. "But for now, you must do what I say and go to Perion. There, you'll find out what you have to do. Do not go by way of Sleepywood, but travel through Henseys and Ellenia."

"I've never heard of those places, but I'll try to find my way," Terrin said. Then he thought of something. "But I came here to work…"

"That's right!" the old man once again took something from his pockets. It was a bag, jangling with mesos. "You can send this home when you get to Henseys."

Shocked, Terrin replied, "no, I can't accept that. Maybe there's another way."

A stern look of almost anger spread over the mans face. "This is for you. Do not think that I am a being that requires wealth, or food, or raiment. I am a messenger. Take it."

Gingerly accepting it, Terrin squeaked, "thank you."

Smiling, the old man waved him off. 'And now, go, Terrin. And good luck be with you. Find your party, those you can trust. Don't let the sorrows of your mission change you or destroy your joy. In the end, you will be surprised to find It was worth it all." Walking away through the forest, he called back one more thing. "There is someone you meet before you are through that is not what they seem, no matter how greatly you trust them. There is another, however, that you will rejoice to find. Good luck."

Terrin watched him leave, thinking about all his words. Finally, he turned and ran, beginning his adventure, all the world before him.


End file.
